Iscah pressed the burnt end of a twig against the map, marking a small dot on what she hoped was a good proximation of their current location.

It had been two days of traveling along the ravine floor, following a well-worn path that paralleled an unknown creek. Every night they stopped had always been the same; a doorway hidden in the rocks or brush that opened to cells and a larder stocked with shelf-stable provisions. The slaves were locked up, and then as the cambion had told her when they first met, fed well and given thick blankets to keep themselves warm.

The group consisted of six captured humans and the two Cambion escorts, the tall one who Iscah had learned went by Ram, and the short, squat male Iscah had dubbed Toad. Toad had laughed when Ram told him the nickname, and had slapped his belly in approval.

It was hard not to like them, especially when neither seemed particularly violent or cruel. Ram was gentle but stern with their charges, and Toad was more interested in cooking surprisingly flavorful meals and his crossbow.

The weapon was new toy, Ram had explained to her the previous evening as the chubby male used lard to wipe down the wooden stock and condition the gut string lovingly. Despite it being a weapon he had never handled before, he seemed to be very adept at using it if their dinner of fresh pheasant was any indication.

Iscah sighed, admiring the way the water glinted like a thousand diamonds as it tumbled over a rocky bedding. No matter how she felt towards the two harvesters, inevitably the plan was to save the six humans they had kidnapped.

Somehow.

Which was why she was here, under the pretense of a bathroom break to secretly mark the map Agatha had given her. Folding it neatly she lifted her skirt to secure it between the dress and her stomach.

The crunch of river stones behind her made her whirl, fear flooding her system as a creature out of nightmare stepped out into the small bank.

“Ram,” she tried, but her lungs had seized in terror. It lifted a reptilian muzzle, sniffing the air with a toss of its head before turning an eye the color of molten gold upon her.

The claws tipping its three-fingered arms curled up out of sight, offering a crackling purr that revealed rows of serrated teeth behind scaly lips. The demon took another step forward on hind legs, exposing an elongated tail that had been hidden in the brush, and the entirety of its size. Nearly twice as large as a horse, there was no mistaking it for anything other than an apex predator.

In her fright all she could do was stare dumbly, frozen by the beautifully deadly anatomy as it approached. As it closed in on her she took in more details, from the crest of iridescent grey-brown feathers that ran down its bird-like neck like a mane to the long, elf-like ears swiveled back innocuously.

Instead of attacking it sniffed her delicately before weaving its head side-to-side, studying her face. Carefully those formless lips chmped at the tie of her bonnet beneath her chin, catching the bow and unraveling it gently before tugging the covering over her hair free.

With the material hanging out of its maw it backed up slowly, giving her space. It made a cheep noise to her as if saying goodbye, the sweet sound so paradoxical to its lethal build her mouth fell open. Without another glance at her it vanished back into the forest, only this time its steps were completely silent on the loose gravel.

Iscah stared at the now empty bank, blinking rapidly.

What just happened?

She took a moment to gather her wits before rushing back to the perceived safety of the group, offering a weak smile to Toad when she caught him staring at her hair that now hung freely down her back.

For some reason she felt that telling her two companions what had happened would do more harm than good, and so the day swept by quickly as she mulled over the strange encounter.

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“Aan,” Ram declared, patting the trunk of a tree as they passed it.

“Aan,” Iscah parroted back, brow furrowing slightly as she tried to memorize their word for Elm. It had become a past-time for the three of them as they walked, naming various objects and seeing just how sharp her memory was.

“Te ze?” Toad asked, pointing to an Oak. And this?

“Mmm,” Iscah hummed, thinking it over before her scrunched brows released in a brilliant smile. “Atch’ta.”

But the two were no longer paying attention to her, both frozen as if they had heard something she had not. And then she heard what they had earlier; the baying of hounds. The sound echoed, chorused and joined by more as they picked up their scent.

“What?” Ram managed, his voice pitched higher in alarm as one of the boys whooped in elation, the other five picking up his hope and rattling their chains, screaming over here! Over here! as loudly as they could.

“You need to run,” Iscah managed, looking at the two cambions who seemed at a complete loss as to what was happening. “I’ll distract them, go.”

Bloodhounds erupted from the brush, circling through the group with furiously wagging tails as familiar huntsmen followed on their heels.

Iscah gasped as Benny, her father’s Master Huntsman took in the scene of kidnapped humans and the two Cambions by Iscah’s side.

“Ah shit girl,” he exhaled tiredly, the usually affable expression on his craggy face no where in sight as he pulled off his hat and slapped debris off of it in frustration.

Ram and Toad shifted uneasily, neither eager to begin what most certainly would be a bloodbath as the other hunters circled their group, leaving nowhere to run.

I had been the target, she realized with dread as the frenetic dogs nosed and licked at her hands, their tails beating her skirt.

“Jeh s’aff,” Benny greeted the two Cambions in their own language before switching back. “She’s coming with us,” he motioned to Iscah who blinked in surprise. “Let’s go, girl.”

Obediently she took one step towards him and paused, glancing back to her two hosts. “You aren’t going to kill them, are you?”

Benny didn’t look at the Cambions, instead he looked at the slaves. A stone sunk in her gut, nausea roiling as he was no longer able to meet her gaze. Her attention drifted to Toad’s resigned expression. Resigned, not fearful.

As if they knew their haul was about to be culled.

“No,” Iscah whispered, but it was lost in the twang of bowstrings at Benny’s curt nod.

She stared at the lifeless bodies, arrows jutting from skulls, the ground, and in the trees just beyond them, having passed through their organs.

Why, she wondered. What purpose had killing them served? There had been no screams, the hunters aims had been true. They had died without making a sound. Not a gasp, not a cry out against the injustice, not even a plea for their lives. Six humans who had thought to be freed by their people were murdered by them in a matter of seconds.

“They died because of you,” Benny spat in answer to the question she had unknowingly said aloud.

Blinking too rapidly she took unbalanced steps to face him again. Wondering if she, too, was about to be murdered. She could see it in his gaze. The thought, the idea that this predicament he found himself in could all simply go away if she were cut down. Because now? Now she knew too much.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said instead, the threat passing as his shoulders sagged from something other than old age. “None of us do.”

There was a moment where his anger morphed into fatigue from the heavy guilt he carried, a moment where she wondered if he regretted what he had done, present and past. But all of that was swept away as a blur of browns and tans and talons flew out of the undergrowth and tackled him off of his saddle.

And then the screams did begin.

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Violence erupted without warning.

The predator she had met at the creek’s edge was not alone; Apoch had ambushed the group from a different position downwind while their focus was narrowed upon the monster.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Before the hunters could rally a defense or even respond Ram and Toad joined the attack, and it became a wholesale slaughter.

A remaining survivor managed to flee, barely in control of his mount but Toad leapt, taking a few precious seconds to line up a shot that sent his horse crashing into the earth. The body of its rider ricocheted off a trunk, leaving a splatter of scalp and brain across the bark before it fell in a pile of twitching limbs.

Iscah had backed away, watching in abject disbelief.

My fault, all my fault. This is all my fault again!

She sank to her knees, the mantra playing over and over in her mind, not even aware the sounds of battle had subsided and all that was left was the whimpers and pained squeals of dying animals.

Apoch glanced across the massacre callously, assessing any lingering threats but the two harvesters were already moving to finish off those still suffering. Eliminating the blood off of his blades with sharp flicks of his wrists he sheathed them as he approached the girl.

“Iscah.” He cupped her face in his hands, crouching down to block her view of the carnage. “Look at me. Breathe.”

But he was too late. Her eyelids fluttered closed, limbs going slack despite his commands from the trauma of witnessing more death.

Clicking his tongue in irritation he swept her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing before heading towards where Bu’u was licking the meat and clumps of fur off his talons.

“Wait! You can’t take her,” the tall, skinny harvester protested.

Apoch didn’t break his stride, but did at least offered a response. “She’s coming with me.”

“B-but she said, she said she had a message for Dek.”

He jerked to a halt, processing what he had said before slowly turning towards him. “You know her language?”

The male swallowed almost audibly, furry ears flicking back and forth in trepidation. “More or less?”

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Voices speaking. One of them close, the familiar resonance of the low timbre vibrating through her bones, inciting memories from childhood. Of floating upon a pond while the summer sun seared her skin and painted the world behind her eyelids vermillion, the waters transferring every sound and motion, making her feel one with them. This was that same feeling of peace, that same connection.

The warm embrace securing her to a chest where a heartbeat pulsed a slow cadence against her temple tightened minutely, attempting to rouse her.

“Iscah.”

That voice once more, close and intimate. His breath tickled her cheek, urging her to awaken. She groaned in protest, pressing further against the wall of muscle and draping her hand around the unyielding curve of a waist. A sharp inhale in response, the reaction rousing her interest and lifting the numbing fog of unconsciousness. Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking up at the crimson irises peering down at her.

Eyes the color of blood.

Blood dripping down the plants. Running like sluggish water where it did not soak into the earth immediately. Blood spraying as a furry body was flung like a toy, its entrails whipping through the air around it.

She took a short, spastic breath, then another, eyes widening in alarm.

Screams of the dying, of fatal agony.

“Iscah.” Demanding now, he tried to catch her attention and disrupt the gasps that had become erratic and terrified.

Benny, his body nearly torn in half and lower extremities twisted unnaturally, sightless eyes staring at her.

Apoch grimaced, dropping the reins to curve his hand around her throat, framing her jaw between his thumb and index finger before slanting his lips across hers.

Everything froze as he took advantage of her surprise, his tongue invading her mouth, claiming control. The shock of his kiss had her inhaling through her nose, breathing in the acrid tang of smoke clinging to his hair, the buttery leather of his armor, and beneath it all the scent of him.

The fingers wrapped around her neck tightened minutely, sending a fission that reverberated through her extremities before pooling low in her stomach. Another unhurried pass of his tongue, the motion staggering as it tore through all thoughts and drowned the panic, leaving an aching want behind for more.

As if he knew her desire he began to withdraw, lips brushing across hers in finality as he released his hold on her.

She lingered, unraveling and memorizing the experience of her first kiss. Savoring the taste of sweet fennel that had been on his tongue, the thrill of his touch against her skin. Some small part of her knew propriety said offense should be taken for his liberties, but that moral compass had been decimated by lips whose brand still tingled on her own. It had not been the chaste, nervous peck she had always expected her first experience to be. Instead it had been dominant, full of masculine confidence and promises her mind could not comprehend yet her body instinctively knew.

Languidly she opened her eyes once more to face the detached, clinical expression in his gaze.

The molten euphoria flowing in her veins coagulated, tarnishing the moment and leaving her disconcerted. She ducked her head to evade his scorn, face burning in flustered humiliation.

Muscles in the legs she was draped over flexed, and the smooth motion of the beast they had been riding on came to a halt. Iscah lifted her head from where it had rested on the swell of his shoulder as he called out a rough order to their traveling companions.

“Mister!” A familiar voice chimed from nearby, Ram’s tone one of tight relief.

Apoch wedged a hand beneath her knees, their abrupt shift in balance causing her to loop an arm around his neck. He twisted and dismounted from the monster that had attacked the hunters without setting her down.

“Am ok?” Ram queried, wringing his hands nervously as he looked between the two of them.

She didn’t even know how to answer that honestly, but Apoch saved her from having to. Finding a downed log he set her on it, his motions gentle despite the darkness hardening his features.

He sat on the ground before her, wrapping his arms loosely around his bent knees. Without glancing to Ram he began speaking, the other two joining them though they kept a healthy distance.

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“Is this your doing?”

Ram startled at the accusatory question, earth-toned eyes widening as he stammered a translation to Iscah when Apoch’s ire shifted to him momentarily.

Iscah shook her head, arms hugging around her middle self-consciously before responding.

“No,” Ram replied for her, his answer delayed and choppy as he tried to unravel what she was saying. “It began two— no six, six months ago. No answers in…in room of books, though she looked very hard and very long.”

Iscah took in a slow breath, gaze lifting from the ground to address Apoch, her spine straightening slightly.

“She says, every night she sees. . .” Ram’s forehead was creased as she continued, obviously not able to follow along with the topic, having assumed they had been speaking of the hunting party. Understanding dawned on him and he stood abruptly, backing away in terror.

“Warlord,” he pleaded, the stench of his fear sour in Apoch’s nose. “Warlord please, we don’t know anything. We found her in a supply room and— please don’t kill us.”

“What did she say,” Apoch demanded quietly, enunciating his words so that flashes of those elongated canines were visible.

“Th-that every night she sees you in a dream. That you are calling to her, and she to you.” Ram licked his lips worriedly, hesitating to add the remaining but blurting it out regardless. “That you are seeking, wanting.”

Wanting.

That word burned like acid in his thoughts. It scalded in its truth, and he raged against it because at its core it was not his own choice, but fed to him continuously in those cursed dreams. None of what he felt for this girl was real, and she was too naive to come to the same conclusion.

Even with her sitting elevated on the log, they were nearly eye-level. She was untested, her innocence an offensive aura that disgusted him. Everything about her was unattractive, and yet the feel of her still lingered on his lips. Enticing, damning every poisoned thought.

He had no idea what he was thinking when he kissed her. She was panicking, her anxiety spiraling out of control and he had not wanted her to black out again. While she had woken up quickly this time, he couldn’t be sure if she had gone under again she would’ve recovered just as fast. But for that to have been his first reaction had rattled him, his self-disgust turned outwards upon her.

You stupid girl, he wanted to snarl at her. You should be running away in fear, not looking at me like I’m the answer.

If he was being honest though, he didn’t know the answer either. Neither of them did it seemed. His motivation to kill her had withered at that first touch. The irony of that when his past was all but drowning in blood was not lost to him. Understanding why was not a simple thing he could nail down, and so for now his focus shifted on what they were to do next. If neither of them knew what was going on, then all that was left was one raving lunatic that might.

You’re searching for a treasure, but refuse to believe in its value.

The plan reeked of desperation, and was enough to make him want to end his own misery at the edge of a blade.

“Warlord,” Ram tried again, desperate to save his life. “Please…”

The muscles in his jaw feathered, releasing the tension that had his teeth clenched. “I don’t need to kill you. The minute you tell anyone about the girl, someone else will do it for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were looking for her,” Apoch stated, tipping his head towards Iscah and both nodded in agreement. “They killed the slaves simply because they saw her. Their leader didn’t seem particularly interested in either of you, which means one of two things.”

“That he didn’t want to start a turf war by killing us,” Toad mused. “Or he knows someone else will do it for him the moment we mention her.”

Apoch jerked his chin in affirmation. “I’ll take her, and suggest you both forget she ever existed.”

Toad nodded once more before clearing his throat, spitting a wad of phlegm in Iscah’s direction. Apoch was surprised by the sudden impulse to cave in the chubby male’s face with his bare fists for the slight.

“We got had, and frankly I’m not much for being had again. Rest and share our food tonight, and tomorrow we’ll part ways with our thanks and silence.”